


Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground

by Shazrolane



Series: We'll Meet Again [4]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes at War, Gen, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Sergeant Barnes of the 107th, background Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-20
Updated: 2015-07-20
Packaged: 2018-04-10 09:11:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4386119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shazrolane/pseuds/Shazrolane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You know,” Bucky said as he collapsed on the ground, “it’s the glamour that’s just going to my head.”</p>
<p>Corporal Dugan grinned at him. “Yeah Sarge, it’s an all expenses paid vacation out here.” He gestured expansively. “Room.” He pointed at their blankets on the ground, “board.” He pointed at Hayes and Mickle, opening up the cans of their C-rations, “quaint local sights.” He pointed at a bombed out house across the valley, “spectacular views of wildlife.” He pointed at the corpse of a cow in the road. Bucky shook his head and dug out his cans from the bottom of the box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground

**Author's Note:**

> This was made immeasurably better by the amazing Taste_Is_Sweet.

[Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BNj2BXW852g)  
Blind Willie Johnson 

“You know,” Bucky said as he collapsed on the ground, “it’s the glamour that’s just going to my head.”

Corporal Dugan grinned at him. “Yeah Sarge, it’s an all expenses paid vacation out here.” He gestured expansively. “Room.” He pointed at their blankets on the ground, “board.” He pointed at Hayes and Mickle, opening up the cans of their C-rations, “quaint local sights.” He pointed at a bombed out house across the valley, “spectacular views of wildlife.” He pointed at the corpse of a cow in the road. Bucky shook his head and dug out his cans from the bottom of the box. 

At least they weren’t eating K-rations again, although he had to admit that they were possibly the only things in existence that would make the C-rations seem preferable. Bucky used the can opener he kept on his dog tag chain to open up the M-can, then cursed. “Damn it all to hell, hash AGAIN?”

Everyone else immediately clutched their own cans tightly to their chest. 

“Aww, c’mon guys, help a fella out here!”

They all shook their heads. 

“I hate you all and I’m signing you all up for latrine duty.”

“You’ll do it right along with us, Sarge,” Hayes pointed out helpfully.

Bucky flipped him off and opened up the B-can, hoping for a miracle. “Goddammit.” He threw the packet of “powdered synthetic lemon drink” on the ground, lit up one of the cigarettes, and morosely munched on a biscuit. Things were bad when you were so hungry that all you could think of was your next meal, but then when you got it you couldn’t stomach most of it.

He poked at his ribs. There was a lot less between his finger and the bone than there used to be. He’d never been fat, but he was worn away to whipcord muscle and bone right now. He sighed and forced himself to eat the chopped up mockery of food that was in his can. At least it had stopped raining long enough that the hash wasn’t turning into soup.

Boredom, boredom, wait around, wait some more, walk all night because you spent all day waiting, boredom, and then the sheer terror of battle. All the way from Sicily to Salerno to wherever-the-fuck-they-where. 

And then more boredom. “Change your socks,” he ordered the other three. “And Hayes, go throw the cans away.”

“Aww Sarge, why me?”

“Because you pissed me off!” 

Hayes hurriedly stuffed the rest of the candy from the B-can into his mouth, shoved the cigarettes into his front pocket, and gathered the cans in his arms before going to the designated garbage dump. 

“Sarge is sure in a mood tonight,” Mickle whispered to Dugan.

“Who wouldn’t be, having to look at your ugly mug?” was Dugan’s answer.

And then the excitement was over for the night and there was nothing left to do except try to remember a time when there'd been a bed to sleep on, bread and butter for dinner, a friend’s face and voice and touch. It felt like so long ago that it might as well have been in a different life. 

Bucky laid down on his blanket and stared at the sky until he fell asleep.

***

Packing up in the morning was easy, because they had almost nothing to pack. Ammunition and K-rations were still stowed in their packs and belts. Blankets got tied up and slung over their shoulders, rifles picked up and helmets—or for Dugan, his hat—were placed on heads and that was it. No change of clothes; they lived in the same shirt and pants and sweater and coat day in and day out. They all would have stunk to high heaven if it wasn’t for the constant rain. Not that smelling like mildew was much better.

No change of underwear. On the few occasions when they’d been allowed a fire, Bucky had insisted that everyone strip down and dry their skivvies. The other squads had laughed and pointed, but none of Bucky’s men were suffering from blisters and rashes.

He’d managed to beg, borrow and/or win card games for socks, so their feet weren’t rotting. That was the best he could do, and it was little enough. He and Steve had complained to each other about being poor, but they’d never reached the point where a spare set of socks or underwear seemed like untold riches. 

Four days since the battle. Three and a half weeks before that and on to four days afterwards of constant walking: just one foot in front of the other, mile after endless mile. For a Brooklyn boy who’d never figured that he’d ever leave the borough, he’d walked across what felt like half of Italy. They’d walked from late summer into fall, from the coastline up into the mountains. They scrambled up rocky trails, slid down the other side of the same rocky trails, and slept on the rocks. At least the rocks were dry.

They walked so much that most of the men had learned to sleep while they were marching, falling into a kind of coma. Oblivious to danger, so there always had to be someone on watch. Bucky always stayed awake as long he could so Dugan and Hayes and Mickle could catch what they could, but right now he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

“Dugan.” No response. “Dugan.” Still nothing. He stooped down to scoop up a handful of dirt. “That stupid hat’s a tempting target.”

Without cracking an eye, Dugan replied, “It’d be a shame to have to kill you, Sarge.”

“Yeah, yeah, we all know the hat’s the only thing saving the rest of us from seeing the monstrosity that is the rest of your head, Medusa,” Bucky said. “Stay awake for a while.”

Dugan nodded, and Bucky let himself slip into a doze. One foot in front of the other. 

One foot in front of the other.

One foot in front of the other.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "Coma" square of my H/C Bingo card
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr!](http://shazrolane.tumblr.com/)


End file.
